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I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Environment
Doe
Great
Believe
Eater
Beef
Wit
Harm
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They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.
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This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.
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For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.
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What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?
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Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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I have lov'd her ever since I saw her and still I see her beautiful
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Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
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The coward dies a thousand deaths, the valiant, only once!
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Justice always whirls in equal measure.
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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Love reasons without reason.
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What many men desire--that 'many' may be meant By the fool multitude that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty.
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It comes to pass oft that a terrible oath, with a swaggering accent sharply twanged off, gives manhood more approbation than ever proof itself would have earned him.
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O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?
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He that hath the steerage of my course, Direct my sail.
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Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
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I can see his pride Peep through each part of him.
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